


A Pre-Yule Interlude

by Neemochan



Series: The Life (and Death) of Tenny Brayboy, Professional Ghost Friend [2]
Category: New World Magischola (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neemochan/pseuds/Neemochan
Summary: In the period of time between the end of semester and Yule, Tenny Brayboy returns home. Books are read, ghost friends are missed, real friends are missed, and the last name ‘Noonan’ is tossed around far more than he cares for it to be.





	A Pre-Yule Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short Tenny-sulks-in-the-library-at-home fic, but it completely got away from me.  
> What is plot?  
> No beta/no edits, we die like men.  
> (also, Heather, sorry if I got Noonan stuff wrong >_> )

Tenny’s bedroom door was open, but Anastasia gave it a soft knock anyway.

“Tennyson?” She called gently, leaning to glimpse inside.

Receiving no response, she nudged the door aside and walked in. “Boo Bear, I’ve got mail.”

Almost immediately she stepped on a crumpled-up robe on the floor. Anastasia sighed, a slight growl at the end.

It was obvious when Tenny was home on break. Half of his possessions – all of which were tidily tucked away while he was at school – ended up scattered across his floor. Clothes, half-read books, trinkets and baubles, stray crystals, partially used candles. Anastasia had long since learned it was hopeless to try and teach her son any other way of life.

“Tennyson,” She cooed softly. “Let’s not sleep the day away again, hm?”

She tucked the mail under her arm and drew her wand from her skirt pocket. With a swift flick, the pile of ghost t-shirts and shorts at her feet floated into the air.

“ _Spritzous._ ”

The clothes unfurled themselves, flapped in a non-existent wind until their wrinkles were gone, and folded into tight, neat squares.

“ _Wardrobeous._ ”

Anastasia guided the clothes to the dresser with the tip of her wand. The drawers slid out and the refreshed shirts and shorts lowered themselves into the empty bins.

She gave a light huff of satisfaction. Then she turned back to the lump of blankets in bed. “How late did we stay up this time? Any midnight visitors—”

She quickly covered her mouth.

She hadn’t meant to bring it up. To be fair, it was a hard habit to break after eighteen years of talking to her son about the strange apparitions that frequently stood at the foot of his bed.

Anastasia sighed and dropped her head into an open palm. “I’m sorry, honey, I wasn’t thinking.”

The blankets didn’t move.

She glanced up, then moved to the edge of the bed. “Tennyson?” She leaned closer, gingerly reaching out to run a hand over her son’s blanketed form. But her hand sank into the softness.

She pulled back.

He wasn’t there. Awake – and up and about the house, apparently.

Anastasia glanced over her shoulder, out the bedroom door, as if she could see where he was from there.She couldn’t, but she had a guess.

She pulled out her wand again, this time pointing it at the duvet. With a flourish of her wrist, the covers lifted into the air and revealed the mattress beneath.

Anastasia rolled her eyes. “Oh, honestly…”

Evidently, Tenny had been sleeping with the books he was currently reading – or, maybe they were books he’d abandoned. Fallen asleep while reading and lost them in the blankets was entirely possible, too.

Whatever kind of books they were, Anastasia recognized them as his own, not borrowed from elsewhere. They had a designated place on the shelf in the wall adjacent to his bed.

The covers continued to float, now fluffing themselves out. Anastasia gathered up the books. Then she noticed something else by his pillows.

Well, sort of _under_ his pillows. It was his Boo Buddy: a stuffed ghost toy that they had made together when he was little. It was a security blanket of sorts; something he squeezed onto when scary ghosts came at night. It also had a calming charm on it, although Anastasia was sure it had lost its potency over time – if it still worked at all.

She frowned, reaching to pull the toy’s head out from under a pillow.

Tenny hadn’t slept with his Boo Buddy in years.

Anastasia ran a hand over the toy, concern pulling at her brow. She hefted the small stack of books into her arms, setting Boo Buddy on top, and guided the duvet back down onto the bed. She laid Boo Buddy on top, propped up against the pillows.

She knew Tenny had come home on the tails of a rough semester. She knew that after a string of terrible nightmares, he’d somehow lost his ability to see and talk to ghosts. And while he didn’t say as much, she could tell he was floundering.

Anastasia sighed, moving to the shelves beneath the large world map on the wall. She remembered when Tenny had asked for it, home from primaschola, not long after he had decided to try helping ghosts he encountered. He had a momentary fascination with research hauntings and legendary ghosts, both the documented and fictitious. He had started marking landmarks and locations on the map with pins, tagging them with information about the spirits haunting them. He had said that, someday, he wanted to visit all those places and try to help the ghosts that were stuck there.

Bold, coming from the boy who was once so scared of them.

Anastasia knelt, sliding each book into its proper place. Once finished, she stood, coming face to face with the map. She smiled at it, at the memories attached to it, then started for the door.

But she stopped. Did a double-take.

The map was empty.

She stepped closer to it again. All the pins were gone. The yarn that made it look vaguely like a conspiracy board. The scraps of parchment naming each ghost. They were all gone.

Anastasia reached out, lightly tracing the faded spots of where markers had once been.

Then she turned, beginning a brisk walk to the family library.

 

***********************

 

A blue and white marbled pendant was clutched in Tenny’s palm. He played with it idly, laying on the carpet, feet up on the seat of the stiff reading chair, a book in his other hand; _The Astral Plane: Theories and Ideas_.

His fingers traced the wire designs that wrapped around the pendant. He let the crystal drop and dangle by its short silver chain as he flipped pages.

A patchy paw of orange, black and white reached up, into the corner of Tenny’s vision, and batted at the pendant. Tenny snatched it away and closed it in his palm again.

“Stop it.” He mumbled to the cat. He waited, turning another page, then let the pendant slip between his fingers again.

Two paws popped up this time, quickly swiping and catching the dangling crystal between them.

Tenny jerked it out of the cat’s grasp, turning his head to glare. “Phineas, cut it out.”

Phineas stared back, dark eyes flat and daring, as if he were saying _make me_.

Tenny sighed, going back to his book. “Go find your own toys. Mom’s got a whole pile in the conservatory.”

He continued reading, Phineas not budging. The pendant eventually found its way out of Tenny’s palm, dropping to twirl in the air again.

Phineas took a swing at it.

“Seriously?” Tenny pulled it in, holding the pendant to his chest. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The cat stared at the hand covering the crystal. His eyes twitched up to Tenny’s face, not the slightest bit apologetic for being the pest he was.

Tenny sighed. “Look, this one’s special. Heather gave it to me. You can’t have this one.” He looked at the cat, searching for any sign the creature was listening to him. “There’s crystals all over this house, go find another one to destroy.”

Because if there were a cat that could manage to destroy a crystal, it would be Phineas, Destoryer of All Belongings – at least, Tenny’s belongings. He always seemed to get the brunt of the cat’s destructive, spiteful tendencies.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors by teasing him.”

Tenny’s head turned the other way, to the door, where his mother stood.

Phineas perked up at the sight of Anastasia. He readied himself, rising to his feet.

“I wasn’t teasing him.” Tenny grumbled. “He just needs to mind his own busi— _ooph_!”

Smug and regal, Phineas leapt onto Tenny’s chest. He took his sweet time padding across, then gracefully jumped down, thumping Tenny in the face with his fluffy tail.

Tenny stared up at the molded ceiling, gaze dry and withering, as Phineas finished parading his way to Anastasia. The cat nuzzled her leg. She reached down to scratch between his ears.

Tenny was not a cat person. He wondered if he had been that way from the start, or if it was because he had the privilege of having Phineas in his life.

“I can see why he likes it.” Tenny’s mother said, nodding at the hand pressed to his chest. “The pendant -- it’s very pretty.”

Tenny held it up, inspecting it himself. “It’s from Heather.” He said. “She gave it to me when—”

He stopped. _When everyone was planning the ritual to bring my soul back from the Astral._

He cleared his throat. “When, uh, we started dating.”

Tenny hadn’t told his parents the entire story of what happened at the start of last semester. He hadn’t told them that he picked a fight with a dark and powerful entity called The Nightmare. He hadn’t told them that he had been dead, soul drifting in the Astral. He hadn’t told them the only reason he was here now was because of Margaret, his ghost friend, pulling him back. How could he? It would break their hearts. His death had already broken enough hearts.

He _did_ tell them he couldn’t communicate with ghosts anymore. He couldn’t really hide that. But as far as they knew, what caused it was a mystery.

And it _was_ a bit of a mystery. But Tenny had lost his abilities as soon as his soul had reentered his body. He had a couple of working theories as to why.

“Speaking of Heather…” Anastasia began, pulling a stack of papers and envelopes from under her arm.

Tenny’s attention snapped back to her. He lowered his book, not closing it, but placing it open pages down on the floor.

His mother pulled an envelope from the stack and waved it in the air. She raised a suggestive brow. “Someone sent you a letter.”

Tenny scrambled to his feet, snatching the letter from her hand. He stared at his full name scrawled in Heather’s fancy hand: _Tennyson Brayboy_. “She sent me a letter?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I just—” He paused, choosing his words wisely regarding Heather’s post-semester and pre-Yule activities. “I thought she might be too busy. Working on her business.”

Anastasia smiled. “Well, she must care about you a lot, then…” Her smile morphed into a slight smirk. “… _Tennyson_.”

His cheeks flared red and he muttered a couple incoherent, embarrassed words.

His mother reached forward and gave his cheek a light, teasing squeeze. He swatted her away and turned back into the library, plopping down into the stiff red reading chair and tearing into his letter.

Anastasia gave him space, crossing to the tea tray in the corner of the library. She drew out her wand, opened the old, floral patterned tea pot, and began preparing a cup of one of her own blends. Just one cup; she knew Tenny wasn’t fond of tea, only drinking it when he needed to.

She snuck a couple glances at him as he read, watching as the purest smile lifted his face and spirits. It gave her some relief, knowing that despite the loss of his abilities, despite the momentary loss of his sense of purpose, there was something – someone – who could make him smile like that.

Tea cup in hand, Anastasia took the chair beside Tenny’s, setting her drink on the small table between them. She leaned causally against the armrest, watching him fold the letter closed and tuck it back in its envelope.

“All good things?” She asked conversationally.

“Mostly.” Tenny said, folding the envelope in half and tucking it into the side pocket of his shorts. “Don’t snoop.”

Anastasia laughed. “I’m not snooping.”

“You’re my mom, she’s my first girlfriend….” He turned to look at her. “You’re going to snoop.”

“Tennyson, you’ll _know_ when I’m snooping.”

Tenny paled a little at that, causing his mother to laugh again.

“And even then,” She continued, “It won’t be half as bad as the other unsoiled mothers. I’m not asking for her pedigree.”

“She has a pretty good one, though.” Tenny murmured.

Anastasia leaned across the side table, reaching to cradle his face with a hand. “But there are much more important things. You know that.” She said, moving to tap the tip of his nose. “Like the smile you had on your face while reading that letter.”

Tenny let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck.

His mother leaned back in her chair, taking her tea cup into her hands again. “So…” She took a long sip. “Have you kissed yet?”

A bashful laugh bubbled out of Tenny. He opened his mouth, ready to answer, clearly replaying some memory in his mind – but then he stopped himself. “Ah—no—no snooping.”

Anastasia lifted her shoulders nonchalantly, eyes slipping closed. “Just a question.”

Tenny hummed in suspicion.

She gave her tea a blind stir. “Is she going on the Yule trip?”

Tenny glanced at his mother out of the corner of his eye. “…yes.”

Anastasia nodded, humming sagely.

He groaned, reaching down to pick up his book and resume reading.

She cracked open an eye and giggled softly behind closed lips. Then took a drink from her tea.

Tenny slumped further into his chair, focusing on the text. Anastasia’s gaze roamed the library, taking in the gaps in the bookshelves and the little piles of books Tenny had gathered at the foot of the reading chair. The stacks contained titles such as: _The Astral Plane_ , _The Flexibility of Fate_ , _The Definitive Book of Astral Beings_ , _Not Seeing is Believing: A Guide to Spirits and the Astral_ , _Death and the Afterlife: A History_ …

Anastasia sighed. She turned to look out the tall windows. It was sunny, not a cloud in the sky, just blue as far as the eye could see.

She turned back to her son. She opened her mouth, but hesitated, taking a sip of tea instead. She cleared her throat, trying again.

“I noticed you took your map down.” She said quietly, watching Tenny closely. “The pins, the notes…”

Tenny didn’t budge. He just sat there, hands and eyes on his book. “…yeah.”

Anastasia didn’t press him, didn’t ask why. But the following silence did.

“It didn’t make sense to keep it there.” He turned a page, voice suddenly rigid. “Can’t talk to ghosts anymore; can’t help them.”

Anastasia set her tea cup on the table. “Tennyson,” She said, leaning close, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know that. This could all just be temporary. I’m sure there’s some way to fix it.”

Tenny didn’t look at her, just continued to stare at his book, though it was clear he wasn’t reading anymore. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his cheeks seemed to puff with words he wanted to say. But he sighed and shook his head.

“Tennyson,” His mother’s head dipped, trying to catch his gaze. “Boo Bear. Come on. Talk to me.”

His own hazel eyes flicked up to hers. They were wide and held a glimmer of fear. Tenny’s mouth opened and shut in repeated false starts. He couldn’t say anything until his gaze drifted to some corner.

“Everyone keeps saying that it’s temporary. But you don’t know either. You know less than I do.” He shook his head. “Where does it say that this is temporary? What’s to say it’s not? Everything points to this being permanent. I can’t enter the Astral, I can’t talk to ghosts, I can’t even see or hear them – even the ones regular mages can. I can’t hear Margaret…”

He paused, swallowed, closed his eyes. “Everyone is just being optimistic. They’re trying to help, I know, but… I don’t think this is something that can be fixed.”

“Tenny. Honey…” Anastasia reached over and gently took the book from Tenny’s hands, closing it and setting it in her own lap. “Okay. Let’s say this can’t be fixed. Let’s say you can’t talk to ghosts ever again – you’ve accepted that. What are you going to do?”

“I—” Tenny’s nose scrunched as he thought. “I’m not sure…”

His mother smoothed a hand over his arm, patting his wrist.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out.” He mumbled. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to study Astromancy when you’re locked out of the Astral…”

“You’re smart, Tennyson.” Anastasia grabbed his hand. “You’ll figure things out. Just give yourself some time, hm?”

“Yeah.” Tenny sighed, pulling his hand from hers. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” He let out a heavy sigh, not finishing his thought.

Anastasia sat back in her seat. She watched him, concerned, wishing there was something she could do. Astromancy wasn’t her strong suit – her specialty lied in herbs, crystals and charms. She wasn’t sure how far those things would get her in this situation.

She felt his pain; understood it. She had helped him face his fear of ghosts as a child, watched as he had begun facing that fear on his own, begun helping guide those ghosts onward. She had listened to him as he told stories about the spirits he helped, the friends he made. She had watched helping ghosts become his life’s work.

She hated to watch him lose it.

Anastasia smoothed her hands over the book in her lap. “You haven’t really left the house since you came home.” She began. “Are there any friends you could visit before Yule? Anyone on the Isle?”

Tenny shrugged, fiddling with his DuBois wrist cuff.

“How about cousin Gwen?” She suggested.

“I’m not sure Gwen came back for the between period.” Tenny mumbled.

“Then…the Milfords? Cousin Marland?”

Tenny’s face scrunched. “I don’t know…”

“What about your housemate? The Almgren girl? Or the Lafayette twins? Or perhaps your Marshal friends?”

“They’re working, mom.”

Anastasia sighed. “Well then how about me?”

Tenny looked up at her.

She shrugged. “Let’s have a day out tomorrow. You need gifts for your friends, right? And something for Heather? Maybe a new set of pajamas for you for late night hot cocoa?” She smiled, nudging his shoulder.

The smallest smile began to pull across Tenny’s face. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds fun.”

“And we can meet your father for lunch.” She waved her hand in the air. “Well, assuming he isn’t wining and dining and schmoozing.” She rolled her eyes, rising to her feet. “Brayboys and politics.”

She handed the book back to Tenny, who stared up at her quizzically. “I’m a Brayboy…”

Anastasia ruffled his hair. “I know you are.”

His brows lowered into an offended glare and he reached up to right his hairstyle.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your moments.” She said, waltzing to the door. She paused at the threshold. “Oh, those crystals scattered all over your room – have those been charged recently? Cleansed?”

Tenny’s nose was already back in his book. “Those are my séance crystals. I don’t think I’ll be using them anytime soon.”

Anastasia placed a hand on her hip. “They can be used for other rituals, you know. Crystal quartz has many uses. You just want to make sure you cleanse them so you’re not bringing any unsavory residue into a ritual.”

“…I know.” The pause before saying so suggested he didn’t. Rituals (non-improvised, by the book rituals) had never been a strong point of his.

His mother nodded at the book in his hands. “Put the book down and go gather them up. We can give them a good refresh in the conservatory. Then I can show you a couple other uses for them, if you want.”

She slipped into the hallway. Tenny watched her go. He turned back to his book. Then he sighed, climbing out of the chair, leaving the book on it, and followed his mom.

 

*************************

 

Tenny put on one of his old primaschola sweaters and a pair of (non-cargo) pants. The first stop of their shopping adventure was The Penumbra, the most elite tier of shops The Isle had to offer. It was also the most uncomfortable collection of shops to shop in.

The Brayboy family had never been all that high on the ladder of Unsoiled families, and they had most definitely dropped a few rungs after Tenny’s grandfather tried to stage a coup against isle leadership. It was over 50 years ago, but it still earned anyone with the name Brayboy a condescending look or two, particularly in the more ‘elite’ parts of town.

Tenny’s mother always waved and laughed it off, pressing stubbornly onward. Tenny knew his ghost t-shirts and cargo shorts didn’t exactly help, especially when walking past store fronts that were the pinnacle of Virginia Isle fashion. So, the sweater and slacks made it just a bit easier – not so much for his sake, but for hers.

Anastasia turned to him as they walked down the cobbled streets. She gave his dark green sweater a slight tug. “Have you ever thought about getting a little ghost embroidered? Right here?” She tapped his left peck, just below his collar bone. “You could do that with a lot of your old sweaters. Subtle, but still ghosty.” She smiled, but it quickly faltered. “If you’re still into the whole ghost aesthetic. I guess it wouldn’t really make sense, would it?”

Tenny’s head dipped as he looked at the spot on his sweater where the suggested embroidery ghost would go. “I don’t know… I kind of like it, though.” He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I guess it’s up in the air.”

Anastasia nodded. “Good to know. Because I think there are one or two merchants who had some custom items they wanted to show you.” She grinned, then looked up at the overly ornate storefronts on either side of them. “Well, not here. In the _other_ shop collective. The more relaxed one.”

She gave Tenny a slight smirk before lifting her head and straightening her shoulders. “Right. What are we looking for? Do we have a list? Or are we winging it?”

Tenny’s gaze was caught as they passed the windows of Delany & Devereux, the famous wand shop. His dad had taken him there – twice. The second time was to get his current wand, just before starting Magischola. _People change, and their magic changes with them. No one is compatible with one wand forever…_

Tenny blinked, turning away from the store. “Uh, just winging it.”

“Perhaps that’s best.” Anastasia said. “You never know what you’re going to find.”

Tenny nodded absently, looking ahead at the names of the shops.

He had an idea of what he was going to get Heather for Yule – sort of. It involved a lot of pieces, and he was probably going to need help making it. But he didn’t have any ideas for anyone else. To be fair, some of his friends weren’t making it easy – like Valkyrie; what could he possibly get a tomb raider who likes to dabble in the black market? Or Leo; what was he supposed to get the prince of Atlantis?

He heard his mother gasp. “The ball!” She grabbed his elbow and turned him to face the window of Cheshire & Chance, lined with dapperly dressed mannequins. “Don’t you need something for the ball? Some nice new robes?”

The corner of Tenny’s mouth pulled up in a cringe. “I was just gonna wear what I wore to the welcome ball…”

“Tennyson,” Anastasia rolled her eyes dramatically. “You can’t wear the same thing again.”

Tenny frowned. “Why not? The coat had tails. It was nice, I looked good in it.”

“Yes, you did.” She briefly cupped his cheeks, then dropped her hands down to his shoulders. “But really? You don’t want something else? Something that looks just as nice? Maybe even better?” She absentmindedly adjusted and smoothed his sweater. “Heather might like to see you in something else, you know.”

Tenny’s gaze drifted to the sky, then fell to the cobblestone street. “Margaret helped me pick that one out.” He mumbled.

His mother’s hands froze. “Oh. Oh, honey…” She pulled him close to her and patted his head. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. “…you must miss her.”

Anastasia felt her son’s head shift against her as he nodded. She pulled back and gave him a small smile. “You know, when I saw the photos, I couldn’t quite believe you had picked out an outfit like that on your own. I’m glad she had such good taste.”

Tenny laughed, a tight but fond smile on his face. “Yeah, me too. She has very good taste.”

“Okay,” His mother ruffled his dark hair with her fingers. “No new robes, then.” She began walking again, a gentle, guiding arm against Tenny’s back. “But maybe we should get you new shoes.”

His nose crinkled. “Shoes? Why?”

“Oh, you know…” She looked at him, a teasing twinkle in her eye. “Something with a little more _height_?”

He stopped in his tracks, mouth dropping open. “Wow. Okay.” Gradually, he broke into a laugh. “Seriously?”

“All I’m saying is some platform shoes might even out the height difference.” She said with a snicker.

Tenny upped his pace to catch up to her. “You know you’re not the first person to suggest that, right? Not by a long shot.”

His mom burst into laughter at that. She pulled him close as they walked, squishing him to her side. “Tennyson, you _know_ I’m kidding.”

“I don’t know — do I?”

“Yes, you do.” She leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of his head. “You are perfect just the way you are.”

 

*****************

His mother insisted on stopping at the millinery. _They’re cousins_ , she’d said, _and we can show Granny Milford that it is possible for you to look presentable—well,_ somewhat _presentable._

Although, Granny Milford had not been impressed. Just as Tenny had expected.

He busied himself with looking at the array of hats while his mom made painful small talk. He wondered which ones Heather would like and dislike, trying to imagine her commentary in his head.

Tenny was thankful their small talk never turned to him – how’s school, what are you doing after next year, are you top of your class, have you secured an internship, etc., etc. Tenny didn’t want to think about the answers to any of those. He was a bit of a failure right now, thanks.

He cleared his throat, reminding his mom that they were meeting dad for lunch, and that seemed to move things along.

“And do hold that hat for me,” Anastasia called as they crossed the threshold. “I’ll be back with Obsidian to see if he likes it.”

Tenny breathed a sigh of relief once they were back on the cobblestone.

“So, a break for lunch,” His mother said, “And then we’ll go to the other shops.”

He nodded in agreement, leading the way to the rooftop café they were meeting his father at. But Tenny stopped in his tracks at a certain storefront.

Noonessense.

The Noonan family store.

Heather’s family store.

Tenny’s face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace.

“Tennyson? What are you—” Anastasia came up next to him. She looked up at the store sign. “Ah.” She looked, thoughtfully, from the storefront to her son, then back; her lips pressed in a thin line, silent.

After a moment of standing at the shop steps, Anastasia leaned close. “…did you want to go in?”

Tenny balked. “No, no, of course not. Why would I want to go in? They hate me.”

Anastasia’s mouth twisted. “Hate is a strong word…”

Tenny shook his head. “They are not a fan of me, and I am not a fan of them.”

“Right…” His mother sighed.

She’d heard things – some from Tenny, some through the gossip vine – and she knew enough to know that Heather and her family did not get along. She also knew that was perhaps a bit of an understatement. As for their dislike of Tenny, it was mostly Unsoiled politics. The rest, Anastasia assumed, was due to Tenny showing up to Heather’s trial to support her. In a ghost t-shirt and cargo shorts.

It was a bit comical, to be honest.

“You could pop in to say hello.” She suggested. “Think of it as an olive branch.”

Tenny turned to her with the most scathing, dubious stare. “I don’t think the Noonans do olive branches.”

Anastasia simply nodded. She stood up straight and watched a parade of emotions pass across Tenny’s face.

Finally, he huffed and turned on his heel, continuing their walk.

“Tenny?” His mother called after him, voice concerned.

“I’m just…” He closed his eyes and waved his hands. “Angry. Frustrated. I don’t know.”

“Okay, well...” Her hand came to rest between his shoulder blades. “Take a breath.” She paused; listening to make sure Tenny was actually inhaling – and exhaling. Then she proceeded slowly. “You know… my parents weren’t so fond of your father, either.” Her head wobbled back and forth. “Although I suppose that isn’t all that surprising. Someone had to marry the Brayboy boy. And I was the youngest, so that softened the blow somewhat…”

Tenny glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the same, I know.” She shook her head. “Just… don’t get caught up in it. There’s no reason to get caught up in it.”

Tenny seemed to defuse a bit, walk slowing.

“She’s got you, right?”

Tenny’s gaze flicked up to her.

“And you’ve got her.” Anastasia nodded. “That’s the important part. And…if she needs it, or wants it…she’s got us, too.” His mother gave him a soft smile and a pat on the back. “Come on, we don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

 

**************

 

“There you are!” Amidst an overflowing rooftop garden, Obsidian Brayboy stood from his chair, arms spread wide.

“Here we are.” Anastasia sang back, gliding to the table at the center of the café, Tenny trailing behind. She took the seat opposite Obsidian; Tenny, the seat between them.

Obsidian nudged a couple empty glasses out of his space. “I got here a little early – didn’t want to forget.” He turned a smile to Tenny. “Counting down the days yet?”

Tenny gave him an impish smile in return. “Since the semester ended.”

“Oof!” His father sat back dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “What? You don’t like being home with us?”

“No, it’s not that.” Tenny shrugged. “I like seeing you guys. It’s just…” He stared at his water glass. “…quiet.”

Quiet in more ways than one.

His father’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “I know, kiddo. Sometimes we just need our friends. I remember being your age.”

Tenny was sure he did. Idly, he wondered if his dad had had friends to rely on after Grandfather Bocephus’s failed revolution. He didn’t want to ask, but he hoped so.

“Now, I hear that the Yule trip will be seeing a lot more Imperial students this year.” Tenny’s father pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and began wiping the circular lenses of his glasses. “That might be a good opportunity to build some connections—”

“Sid…” Anastasia warned.

Obsidian placed his glasses back on his nose. “What?”

“He’s there to have fun. Relax with his friends, spend time with his girlfriend.” She plucked a cloth napkin off the table and draped it across her lap. “It’s not a networking event.”

“There’s no reason not to make new friends; to reach across the aisle – or schools. Or bloodlines, even.”

“I made a couple Imperial friends last year?” Tenny supplied weakly.

Well, he’d made friends with them until they were charged with murder. Embarrassing lapse in judgment on his part.

His dad tapped the table with his hand. “See, Ana? He’s already ahead of us.”

Anastasia hummed, taking a long drink from her water glass.

Obsidian lifted his menu, giving it a casual skim. “So, Tenny…. You said Heather is a Noonan, right?”

Tenny felt the very strong urge to slam his head against the table.

He settled for drawing his menu up over his face.

He had known this conversation was coming at some point; knew it would be impossible for his father to ignore a shiny Unsoiled name like Noonan.

His father was preoccupied with getting in good with the more elite Unsoiled families. It seemed almost counterintuitive for someone who believed in mage equality, regardless of heritage – something learned from _his_ father, no doubt.

Obsidian insisted equality was possible, but though diplomacy, not revolution. He jumped at every opportunity he could find to forge connections, gain the ear of those with influence and power, while trying to rebuild what little reputation the Brayboy name used to have.

It wasn’t until the past year or so that Tenny had realized his dad’s actions were desperate attempts at escaping Bocephus’s shadow.

It made him feel bad.

“I heard that the Noonan family might be looking for someone to help project sales numbers.” Obsidian continued, casual and hopeful. “What do you think? Could you put in a good word?”

Magical economist by day; independent diplomat by night. That was his dad.

Tenny winced behind his menu. “I don’t know… I don’t think they’re looking for anyone.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”

“No…no, I’m pretty sure it does.” Tenny’s gaze flicked to his mother. She had a hard, warning stare fixed on his dad.

Obsidian lowered his menu, expression falling. “…What does that mean?”

Tenny shifted in his seat. “It just means that it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? You’re dating their daughter—”

Anastasia cleared her throat, harsh and sharp.

Obsidian’s eyes jumped to her and he faltered. “No—Of course I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant… I mean, you’ve spoken to them before, right?”

“Sort of.” It was ‘sort of’ true; he’d said hello to Heather’s parents. He just hadn’t been _graced_ with a response.

“Sid…” Anastasia murmured, swirling the ice around in her glass. “Quit before you make a fool of yourself.”

“I’m just trying to understand why Tenny thinks it’s a bad idea to introduce us.”

Tenny sighed. “It’s because we’re not on the best terms.”

“Not on the best terms?” His father repeated. “What, as in they don’t like you?”

Tenny just sort of shrugged.

“How can they not like you? They don’t even know you.” Obsidian looked around the table, as if he’d find the answer in the silverware. “Do you know why?”

Tenny looked at his dad this time, hazel eyes level, gaze wry; he didn’t need to say it.

Obsidian pushed his seat back. “I’m going to have a chat with them.”

Tenny and his mother scrambled forward at the same time.

“No, you really don’t have to—”

“For goodness sake, Sid, sit down—”

His father dropped his napkin on the table, rising to his feet. “I’m not going to stand by while my son is disrespected, all because of petty name politics and prejudice garbage—”

Anastasia leaned across the table with a hiss. “Obsidian Brayboy, you are embarrassing yourself. Sit. _Down_.”

He stopped, glancing around the café, meeting one or two stares of other patrons. He dropped back into his seat.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Anastasia continued in a harsh whisper. “Are you so blinded by all this nonsense that you can’t mind your own business?”

“Tennyson is my business—”

Tennyson was quietly searching his brain for a spell that would let the floor swallow him whole.

“Tennyson is his own person. His relationship with the Noonan family – or any other family, for that matter – is his and his alone.” His mother continued. “This isn’t about you, Sid. Your son is not some pawn you can use. You know better than that.” She sat back in her seat. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Tenny’s father was quiet. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re right. You’re right, I lost focus. I’m sorry.” He turned to Tenny. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“I know.” Tenny said. “But I can handle it. I can handle them.” He gave his dad a reassuring smile.

Obsidian responded in kind. “I know you can. And with far less of a temper than I could.” His expression turned thoughtful. “You know, everyone wants something, Tenny. Even if they don’t want to talk – find the right incentive, and they’ll come to the table.”

Tenny wasn’t sure he would use that piece of advice; he was fine with the mutual ignoring thing they had going on.

He heard his mom exhale from beside him. She gave a satisfied nod before picking up her glass again.

They sat in a fragile silence until Obsidian broached the other sore topic of the day.

“Any luck with your Astral research?”

Tenny sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes. “Not really. I can’t find anything about getting locked out.”

His father folded his arms on the table. “Now, when you say locked out… Do you mean your connection has been completely severed? Or is it more like it’s been blocked.”

Tenny’s nose crinkled. “More like it’s been blocked. Literally like I’ve been locked out.”

“That is unusual…” His father rubbed his chin. “I’ve heard of losing the power – the strength – of your connection, for one reason or another. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone being utterly denied access to the plane…”

“And neither have the books.” Tenny poked at the handles of his silverware.

Obsidian’s gaze remained on him as he thought. Then, he held out his hand. “Can you show me?”

Tenny looked up at him. “Show you?”

“Yeah. Show me what it looks like when you try to enter the Astral.”

Tenny stared at his father’s hand on the table, palm facing up.

“I guess…” He slowly placed his hand in his father’s.

“Close your eyes.” Obsidian said. “Focus. Feel my hand.”

“Really?” Tenny could hear his mother beside him. “Astral magic at the table? In public?”

“Hush, Ana, it’s fine.” His father murmured. “Just a quick look is all.”

There was darkness behind Tenny’s eyelids. He quietly counted down from ten. Then, the familiar red door appeared; slightly chipped paint, no locks. Tenny squeezed his dad’s hand.

“See the door?” He asked.

“I see it.” Obsidian said. “That’s your typical entry point?”

“Yeah.”

Obsidian nodded him onward. “Try opening it.”

Tenny did. He walked up to the door as he had so many times before and grabbed the handle. He gave it a tug, then a push, then a harsh rattle.

Nothing. It wouldn’t budge.

He turned around to face his dad.

“Interesting.” He hummed. “Mind if I try?”

Tenny took a step back, allowing his father to approach the door. As Obsidian stepped closer and Tenny farther back, the door unlatched itself, swinging open ever so slightly.

Obsidian glanced over his shoulder at Tenny. He placed his hand on the door and pulled it open a little wider. He raised his brows.

Slowly, as if he were sneaking up on a skittish cryptid, Tenny approached the door. He reached a hand out to take it from his dad…

It slammed shut, a resounding echo reverberating in the darkness around them.

“Very interesting.” Obsidian muttered.

He let go of Tenny’s hand, vanishing. Tenny opened his eyes soon after.

At some point their lunch had appeared before them. Anastasia was already half way through hers.

“Welcome back.” She said coolly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

Tenny turned to his dad. “So? What do you think?”

Obsidian stared into his plate, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t know, Tenny.” He glanced up at him. “I really don’t know.”

 

**************

 

The day before leaving for Yule, Tenny gave up on finding any answers to his Astral-related problems in the family library.

The books were back in their spaces on the shelf. The world-wide ghost map was still off his walls. His Boo Buddy was stuck under his pillow again.

Anastasia found him in her conservatory, standing at the mixing table, Phineas teasingly weaving between his feet.

Tenny plucked a bottle of silverleaf from the ingredient shelf. He dropped two leaves into the mortar and pestle and begin to crush them.

“What are you making?” She asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“Sleeping potion.” He replied, pouring the crushed silverleaf into a half-finished mixture.

“Sleeping potion?” His mother asked, voice hitching with concern. “Are you having nightmares again?”

“No.” Tenny said quickly. “Well, yes.” He shook his head. “But not like before. These are…normal bad dreams.” 

She thought he might divulge further; say what they were about. But his lips remained pressed together in a thin line.

“I don’t have them all the time but… I thought I’d make a potion to bring just in case.”

Anastasia nodded, running a hand through his hair, fluffing it. “If you’re sure it’s nothing to be worried about…”

Tenny didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled another powder off the shelf.

Anastasia squinted at the bottle in his hand. “What recipe are you following?”

“It’s one Margaret taught me.” He said, opening the bottle and reaching for a measuring spoon.

“Really?” His mom’s tone was dubious, eyes watching carefully. “And you’re sure you remember it?”

“Yeah.” He tipped the bottle, beginning to shake the powder into the spoon. “A teaspoon of wormwood.”

A bottle at the end of the shelf suddenly fell, clattering to the workbench.

Tenny paused. He reached over to grab it. He looked at the label. His cheeks flared.

“Worm _root_.” He corked the other bottle and replaced it on the shelf. “A teaspoon of worm _root_.”

Anastasia patted his shoulders. “That sounds better.”

“…Thanks,” He murmured. But Anastasia had a feeling it wasn’t meant for her.

Tenny wiggled, shaking his foot in attempts to shoo Phineas away. The cat obliged for once, padding over to Anastasia’s leg and rubbing up against it.

She knelt down, running her fingers along the length of the cat’s fur and scratching between his ears. She watched Tenny start to funnel his potion into little glass vials.

“I got you something when we were out the other day.” She began, rising to her feet and leaving Phineas to wander.

Tenny capped the last vial and looked at his mom.

“I’m not sure if it’s something you’re interested in…” Anastasia reached into her skirts and pulled out a jagged rock. “It’s amethyst – unrefined, so it’s a little stronger…”

She smoothed her thumb over the rough surface. Then she took Tenny’s hand and pressed it into his palm. “Amethyst can be useful in channeling, particularly mind magics…”

Tenny stared at the stone in his hand.

She took another breath. “You mentioned you saw a ghost with your friend, Quinn; that, while you were both holding a crystal, you could see the ghost he was seeing.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it will work again, or if it’s consistent. Maybe it depends on whose magic you’re piggy-backing on, I don’t know…”

Tenny closed his fingers around the rough amethyst and looked up at her, a small smile on his face.

“But you do realize…” Anastasia took his hand in both of hers. “This doesn’t let you see anything on your own. It’s a work around. You’ll need help – you’ll need someone else.”

He frowned at that. It wasn’t a fix. He wouldn’t really have control. It’d let him be an observer, allow him a peek at what he wasn’t allowed to see anymore. But…

“At least it’s something.” His mother said softly. “Right?”

He nodded. It was something.

Anastasia’s smile wavered. “I hope it helps.” Her confident façade seemed to crack with a shaky inhale. “I’m a little out of my depth here, Boo Bear…”

Tenny surged forward, squeezing his arms around her. “No, you’re not.”

She laughed lightly, petting the back of his head. “We’ve got it backwards. _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to be comforting _you_.”

Tenny shrugged against her. “It works both ways.”

Anastasia sighed, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “You are too good…”

She drew in a deep, resetting breath and pulled away. She squared her shoulders and cupped his cheek. “Now, finish packing, hm?”

He nodded, faintly aware of Phineas pawing at his feet again.

His mother leaned down so she was level with him. “This is a _vacation_. Remember to relax. Leave the difficult problems for next semester.”She emphasized her words with a gentle tap on his nose. “And don’t forget to have _fun_.”


End file.
